


The Masque

by coffeehousehaunt



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alpha cock, Alpha!Alex Danvers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Chair Bondage, Chair Sex, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/F, Knotting, Kryptonian AU, Omega!Kara Danvers, Party-favor verse, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 16:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11832873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeehousehaunt/pseuds/coffeehousehaunt
Summary: "Kara can’t be like this with her. Alex can’t ever see this side of her, not since she became a soldier, a palace guard; not since they scent-bonded her, marked her as cannon fodder for the Kryptonian nobility. Can’t let their bodies rest together, can’t hold her steady and breathe in her scent and feel her heartbeat where they’re joined and can’t know that she belongs there, Alex belongs there. She can feel it in the way Kara’s body holds hers.Because she can’t un-know it."





	The Masque

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a much, MUCH larger work (it's kind of the inverse of "Rao", in a lot of ways). It's a Kryptonian ABO AU, 1-2 thousand years before the canon timeline--maybe a couple centuries after Val-Zho installed a dictatorship/reformed & centralized the entire planetary government and broke the power of the Great Houses--that part's actually more or less canon, I'm just making it explicitly a genocide, 'cause that's kinda what it was. :) And then added ABO. 
> 
> Pre-Reforms Kryptonian society was structured in packs, led by a single dominant omega. Post-Reforms, society is controlled by the betas, who broke up the old packs and rearranged them into Houses, and promoted the Science Council and that famous Kryptonian objectivity (and the idea of Kryptonians as Rao's "Godlings") as a means of keeping control of the "less evolved" genera. Omegas are fancy child producers and alphas are cannon fodder--
> 
> But maybe some packs found a way to save their history from the destruction of Val-Zho's Reforms. Maybe In-Ze, while a fraction of what it once was, managed to hang onto fragments of its old religion, and the pack structure, and has been quietly over the last few centuries moving towards something like wholeness. Working on insinuating itself into the power structure of this new Krypton and finding ways to shape it. Maybe Kara comes of age and steps into a long game, beyond the lifetime of any of her living family. Maybe she comes of age and loses everything, in the eyes of Kryptonian society--and inherits something ancient. 
> 
> And maybe Alex is an alpha soldier with no House of her own who swore herself to In-Ze after realizing there wasn't much of a future for her anywhere else, as an alpha. 
> 
> And maybe Alex is kind of tied to a chair, because the beta nobility LOVE to throw those Carnival/Masque events "in honor of the old ways" (i.e., an excuse to get drunk and have orgies). And as one of the alpha Warriors of In-Ze, Alex (and a few other alphas you might recognize) is kinda required to be there as a party favor. 
> 
> And maybe, Alex pissed Kara off earlier that day by reminding her that Kara isn't *allowed* at these kinds of events, and it's better if she never gets involved with what goes on there (because condescension will get you everywhere with Kara). It's just a *fact*--nothing at all to do with the fact that Alex might actually combust if Kara is there. Watching her. Touching her. *Not* touching her. 
> 
> Except Kara is definitely here. And Alex is definitely tied to a chair. 
> 
> Oops.

"Keep your hands in their bonds." A familiar voice murmurs in her ear. Warm hands--hot, heated--slide over her shoulders. A sharp stab of arousal drives a gasp from her throat, grinds her hips against nothing. The crowd watching cheers, even louder than before, encouraging shouts and growls and moans and they have to all be going into sympathetic heat, even the betas.    
  
Kara’s presence is powerful enough as it is. Like this, though...   
  
There's no way anyone knows. That this is Kara Zor-El, heir-apparent of two of the Great Houses of Krypton--if Krypton had anything like royalty, she'd be it.   
  
But their bodies know. She’s infectious, heady, even when the scent isn’t noticeable, or is subtle; the effect is marked. Better than drunk, better than any drug Krypton’s scientists could produce.   
  
And that's why they're all gathered around the two of them, now; that's literally the point of heat, binding and submitting and tying together.   
  
It's why Val-Zho's first targets were the omegas, when he began his reforms. To break the pack bonds, the heat-bonds; to discredit the thing that had bound the society before together. To suppress the heats and the ruts and the loyalty that inevitably follows from them. And Kara...    
  
Of course. Of course she rules the Carnival. The one night when they stop pretending that the heat-bonds aren’t in their blood, every one of them, alphas and betas and omegas alike.   
Of course she brings them all to heel. Makes them drunk, dizzy, hard, wet, weak, heedless. Makes them  _ hers _ . The crowd isn't gathering because  _ Alex _ is so damn magnetic.   
  
Old blood, Alex thinks, and squirms slightly as her knot thickens again.    
  
Kara’s thighs brush hers as she straddles Alex’s lap, and then settle firmly. Burning. Her scent fills Alex’s senses, and Alex’s alpha keens, gives itself up. Muscles in her thighs twitch, and her hips, low in her stomach, and she can feel her knot fill, until she’s hard and taut and anything her omega wants and--   
  
And Kara holds herself back. She’s slick, the pheromones from the Carnival pushed her into heat a full week and a half early, Alex can smell the wet on her thighs, higher, can feel the soft skin of her upper thighs stick and skid and slip against her own, can practically see the sheen in her mind--but she’s steady.   
  
Why wouldn't she be?   
  
There’s a tug through Alex’s entire body, yearning towards her omega’s.    
  
" _ Am I weak, alpha? _ " Fuck. Of course she’s going to draw it out, make Alex say it--in front of a crowd that’s becoming more and more animal with each passing second.    
  
" _ No. _ " Alex breathes. It comes out with the edge of a growl.   
  
She feels Kara shift in her lap, and then there’s her hand between them, and wrapping around her knot. Another twitch of her hips, shivering exhale.    
  
Alex lets out a groan and her hips buck when she feels slick-hot skin against the head of her knot. Velvet-soft flesh parting and sliding against her. Kara’s hand guiding her, pressing her deeper, close but not pushing inside; Every cell in Alex’s body is screaming  _ Inside _ . Alex knows better, even though the muscles in her thighs are trembling with the effort it takes to hold still, the way just feeling her shoots hot tension through her body to coil low, pressure building fast, faster than it has all night. Leaving her throbbing against the pressure of Kara’s hand, skin feeling too tight, too tight and too sensitive.   
  
" _ Do I seem confused to you? _ " Kara's breath whispers hot against Alex's ear. Her hips rock in a slow movement that's nothing less than perfectly paced. Still teasing.   
  
" _ No. _ "   
  
This seems nothing less than premeditated, actually.   
  
" _ No _ what _? _ "   
  
" _ No, omega. _ "   
  
" _ Do I need your protection here tonight? _ "

 

Alex’s throat catches on a groan, half-dismay--half another bolt of arousal. Kara could have her pick of any of them. She knows it, too.    
  
The image of Kara writhing under however many nameless alphas she picks is--for whatever reason--beyond arousing. And tortuous. Because she knows--totally knows--that Kara would hold her gaze  _ the entire time _ .    
  
There’s something old about it. Something about the earth, the ground of Krypton, the gravity that binds the planet together. An old myth, about the sky and the earth and the irresistible pull of gravity and fertility. She could snap her fingers and make all of them  _ her _ harem for tonight. Could take this memory, this caricature, and make the Old World real, tie all of them up in it. And they’d never even know.   
  
The image of Kara, sated and full and content, gorgeous and full and  _ heavy _ with it, makes Alex’s body tighten dangerously.   
  
Not because of any involvement she'd have; because ( _ because she's in heat and you're going into a sympathetic rut, knothead _ ) more than anything else, it feels like  _ power _ . Power that her alpha understands. It feels true on a cellular level--a subatomic level, even.   
  
She can't even make herself panic that Kara’s not supposed to be here, they  _ literally aren’t permitted to touch _ \--pheromone flooding aside, Kara's chosen.  _ Kara’s chosen _ \--that’s her. She can’t really move, can’t escape Kara’s razor-edged attention, or the pointed, inevitable way she moves. The way Kara takes this thing that’s been her armor the entire night--her alpha body, what she can do with it, decoration and commodity and mask all at once--and leaves her raw, Kara’s handprints like fire under her skin, the audience and the careful way she’s had to play this role, the alpha stock, what the guests expect to see--obliterated. There’s no being anything other than what she is, once Kara touches her.    
  
She shouldn't be surprised Kara showed up, after being a complete knothead about the party earlier.   
  
There’s a line, somewhere, between Kara her charge, her duty, the warm-hearted hot-tempered girl training to assume her father's seat on the Science Council, and Kara the omega, who reaches into Alex's DNA and wakes something up a few evolutionary steps back from the present day.   
  
Or maybe it's not so far back; maybe that's what's so terrifying about it.   
  
That line is gone.   
  
Alex just wants  _ Kara _ . Needs to fill that ache she can almost smell in Kara’s scent. Needs to knot and claim and fill and sate that  _ hunger _ . Flashes on Kara’s warm skin and gentle smile and never wants to taste anything other than her lips.    
  
Needs her body to belong to Kara. The way she’s  _ supposed _ to belong to Kara; supposed to but never allowed to consummate. Needs to be tied so tightly with her, never leave her side. Never again.   
  
And fuck her, Kara  _ knows _ .    
  
" _ Do I need your  _ protection _ , alpha? _ " Kara prompts, spitting the word.    
  
" _ No, omega. _ "   
  
" _ Tell me honestly then, alpha. Do you want me? _ "   
  
" _ Yes, omega. _ " It's just an acknowledgement of what's already there. What she's not supposed to want. What she's supposed to want, maybe, but never allow herself.    
  
There's a shiver in Kara's breathing. " _ Tell me. _ "   
  
" _ Anything you want, omega. _ " How she makes the words come out, she's not sure.   
  
" _ Anything I want? _ " Kara's hips cant dangerously and her hand is between them again.    
  
" _ Anything. _ " Alex has to bite down on a moan.    
  
" _ What can I take? _ " Almost like a response, Alex's body pulses against her grip, against Kara, and Kara lets out a soft gasp. Goes open and soft with heat and the head of her knot slips inside.    
  
" _ Everything. _ " She gasps. " _ Every part of me. _ "    
  
A tremor runs through Kara's whole body at that. " _ Rao _ , Alex."   
  
There’s a surge of noise from the crowd almost perfectly in sync with the roll of Kara’s hips, and then Alex doesn’t really hear anything else anymore. Can’t, because the only thing real to her senses is the clench of Kara’s body around hers, the low groan in Kara’s throat and the way her legs tremble while she works herself all the way to the base.    
  
It’s the one time Alex wishes she had her hands free for this; Kara takes her in so readily, so wet, inches at a time sinking into welcoming heat, swollen and open and pliant, but even with her knot smooth, there’s still moments where Kara has to hold herself back, where she has to rock softly until her body accommodates--Rao, still  _ so _ readily--a tremor and a slow stroke back down and  _ deeper _ , deeper into heat and deceptively soft strength, a stretch and Kara whimpering into her neck.    
  
Rao, she wishes she could use her hands to help her.    
  
Kara melts against her for a moment when she reaches the base and stops trying to hold herself up. For a moment, she’s just Kara, mouthing softly at her neck and chest heaving against hers, an omega aching and open and  _ needing _ , and she thinks this Kara can have everything, too.    
  
All the young omegas at these parties who’ve only been knotted a couple times (and the inclined betas, especially now), dazed with heat while their friends push them towards Alex, towards any of the alphas there, feral and raw and overwhelmed, uncertain what comes next between waves of heat but needing  _ more _ .    
  
Rao, Kara can’t be like this with her.  _ Alex _ can’t ever see this side of her, not since she became a soldier, a palace guard; not since they scent-bonded her, marked her as cannon fodder for the Kryptonian nobility. Can’t let their bodies rest together, can’t hold her steady and breathe in her scent and feel her heartbeat where they’re joined and can’t know that she  _ belongs _ there, Alex belongs there. She can feel it in the way Kara’s body holds hers.    
  
Because she can’t un-know it.

 

Kara’s going to ruin her. Kara’s  _ already _ ruined her.    
  
The only thing Alex wants, the only thing she  _ breathes _ , is how she wants to wrap her arms around Kara, like she could use her body to keep her safe from the eyes on her while she comes apart, and give her  _ everything _ .    
  
Kara’s mouth on her neck turns wicked again, teeth and hot breath, nipping at her ear, and Alex remembers--   
  
Kara’s so much more than that. Hell--they’re  _ all _ so much more than that.    
  
" _ Who do you belong to tonight, alpha? _ "    
  
She’s here to play a very specific role; impersonal, even. " _ I belong to the Great Houses of Krypton and the packs they’re descended from. _ "    
  
She’s not expecting Kara’s hand in her hair (she should’ve), or the speed she moves with. In a flash, her head’s bent back and her throat’s exposed and Kara’s leaning forward over her--she can feel Kara’s breath on her face, the hot, lithe line of her body following hers. The grind down and  _ hold _ of Kara’s hips, and not for the first time tonight, she wonders if she’s going to manage to knot Kara  _ before _ she comes inside her, like a goddamn teenager whose body is so upended that it can’t remember the order things should go in.    
  
The noise of the crowd throbs around her, ebbs and flows against her skin. They’re going  _ wild _ . They’re going to go home shaken to the core and sober up and talk about the  _ show _ this one pair put on because they don’t have any other way to talk about it except as a display, as entertainment. They’re going to talk about how  _ exotic _ and  _ wild _ this omega was, and the alpha who let her ride her like this.    
  
Slowly, as the night becomes less and less sharp in their memory, they’re going to forget what shook them so hard, forget that this is something just as fundamental to being an alpha as sympathetic rut, as that infamous "need to claim".    
  
After all, they all serve more or less identically. In the eyes of the nobles who live here--most of them, at least--they’re all interchangeable.    
  
As if belonging body and soul to something was a  _ small _ thing.    
  
Alex’s body has been the property of someone else--of lots of someone elses--since she was fifteen; ceremonial or no, most nobles don't bother to differentiate. The scientists and the High Councils view them as fancy animals. Kara is the only one who she’s ever  _ wanted _ to take everything. What she was meant to be, in some senses; to give and give and  _ give _ until they don’t feel that  _ need _ anymore.    
  
Kara’s body, wire-taut, rides up and back down. Alex’s hips jerk ungracefully. Kara’s breath shivers across Alex’s skin.    
  
" _ Who do you belong to, alpha? _ "    
  
Kara’s  _ growling _ .    
  
Alex is  _ weak _ .    
  
" _ You, omega. _ "    
  
That sentence lays  _ everything _ bare. Not just them playing their roles, omega and alpha, but Kara and Alex. Alex with her throat bared and her body arched for Kara to do whatever she wants with. Alex caught somewhere between that, and where Kara’s body holds tight around hers. It feels deeper than it really is; those relatively few inches feel like drowning, like Kara’s taken so much more of her in.    
  
Kara growls deep in her throat, possessive and hard. Kisses her rough and deep and with teeth, and starts to ride her in earnest.    
  
There’s something so terribly, incredibly exposed about this; not the people watching (all they see is a particularly energetic fucking; anything important and under the surface goes completely unnoticed with them), but the slick living heat of Kara’s cunt around her knot, the way her back arches, her own body hard and inside Kara’s--and no barrier. Dangerous and  _ right _ , nothing between them. Maybe it’s because she knows they’d skin her alive if Kara turned up pregnant (maybe literally; the death penalty is still more than legal for a palace alpha, even if it hasn't been carried out in a long time), but she feels acutely caught between the sense of  _ this, finally _ , and knowing that this isn't just forbidden, it's forbidden on pain of death--and the tension inside her almost reaching the tipping point.    
  


And Kara--   
  
Kara’s buried her face in Alex’s shoulder while she moves on her, lets out soft, sweet cries that don’t carry over the rowdy encouragement of the crowd. She’s open and needy and her body slides easy and perfect over Alex’s knot. She rides Alex  _ hard _ , throbs and moans and  _ keens _ and takes Alex’s knot like she’s ready for  _ more _ .    
  
And fuck the death penalty--Alex wills her body to give her  _ more _ .    
  
It’s inevitable, when her knot starts to swell inside Kara; Alex lets her head fall back--the tension in her center, in her thighs, her belly, her lower back, is past the tipping point, her body more or less operating on its own. Thick and thicker and dragging against those deceptively soft inner walls. She just surrenders to the pleasure building there, the ever-tightening feeling of Kara’s body stretching around hers. Kara cries out and swears in a mix of her everyday Kryptonian and High Kandorian that she speaks in her private life, in prayers and with people she loves. Grinds down and rocks on her and loses herself as it gets harder to move, every stroke costs more. Alex can feel Kara’s muscles on the edge of failure, of giving in and clenching hard and  _ tying _ her. Pulling her closer than she’s ever been and keeping her there.    
  
It’s going to happen, is the only thing going through Alex’s head in a mix of terror and want and relief so intense it feels like obliteration. It’s going to happen. Kara’s body feels like a second skin of her own. Feels so close it’s like they  _ are _ joined, more than temporarily.    
  
Instead of scaring her off, though, it just makes her that much more abandoned. Makes her want to lock them in a room and lock them together and not come apart or come out until she can feel Kara’s belly curve full under her hand, makes her want to feel Kara’s body shudder around hers when she spills inside her, open and begging and  _ Yes _ . Makes her want to knot her and feel Kara’s body  _ accept _ her, over and over, until her scent changes and then just lie with her until she whelps.    
  
Kara grabs Alex’s jaw as she hovers panting on the edge, the uncoordinated shiver of her muscles arranging itself.    
  
" _ Give me my tribute, alpha. _ "    
  
Alex comes.    
  
It feels like so much more than just a release inside Kara; it feels like part of herself  _ leaves _ , a ghost tearing out of every inch of her skin. It feels like bonding, like  _ mating _ , but somehow, there’s no bite. Kara’s body spasms around her and locks down hard.    
  
She comes to--as much as she can, given everything--and they’re tied. Kara’s breaths are coming in sobs against Alex’s neck. Her hands are trembling on Alex’s shoulders, in her hair. One hand drops down the back of the chair to where Alex’s hands are bound and tugs weakly; Alex tests them and finds they’ve shifted enough (she managed to tug on them hard enough; these nobles and their loose knots) that she can slip them without much effort and raise her hands to smoothe up and down Kara’s sides, gentle against her lower back, soothing skin-on-skin.    
  
" _ Alex, _ " Kara sobs against her neck," _ Alex, Alex. _ "    
  
Alex shushes her gently, hands smoothing up and down her entire back. "It’s okay. It’s okay. I gotcha."  _ Kara _ , she wants to say, but not here, not where anyone could overhear them. Not when the crowd is pressing closer and dissipating slightly, some watching the show with admiring murmurs, some slipping off to take care of their own needs. "My Rao." She murmurs into Kara’s hair, a quiet admission, what’s always been there. Kara’s breath shivers, then comes a little easier. "My sun and all my stars." Kara relaxes a little bit more. Just above the shell of her ear: “My sun and all my stars.”    



End file.
